The Lion Sleeps
by BVSIK
Summary: On Christmas Eve Clary and Isabelle discover a mysterious figure that has made its way to the Institute. When they discover just who this person is a new sense of danger is brought to the group, in more ways than one. First fan-fic, OC, some OOC, Rated M for language and adult themes.


Snow flurried in the air, coating the city streets with crunching sheets of white. The sidewalks were minefields of black ice, covered in fast food wrappers, newspapers, and muddy snow. A deep indigo sky played battleground to stars and skyscrapers; each fighting to drown out the other. A dizzying mixture of car exhaust, coffee, balsam trees, and vanilla, whipped around the bustling crowds, who were diving in and out of shops, toting brightly covered packages.

A hooded figure, shrouded in all black, strode in a hurried limp moving upstream amongst the hordes of shoppers, with arms folded tightly pressing in any escaping body heat. White misty tufts of bated breath blew sporadically. The figure made a sharp left onto a less crowded street. Its gait intensified as it neared what looked to be an abandoned church. The air felt cooler and the sweet smells of the main street gave way to the pungent sting of cat urine and stale cigarettes. Finally, it reached the splintered door and nearly slipped on the icy steps. A gloved hand grabbed onto the nearest plank; grasping for strength and balance.

"In the name...of...The Cla-" A voice fought to speak, but lost to dizzying blackness. The hand that held the last bit of strength slid slowly as the body descended onto the cold, hard ground, leaving a blackened trail behind it.

* * *

"Do you think he'll like it?" Clary asked eagerly, carefully twirling a small pocket watch in her hands. It shined brighter than platinum and had a transparent face that showed bronzed gears which moved effortlessly. Symbols similar to the runes that Clary had grown accustomed to seeing everywhere were etched on the face of the watch in place of numbers.

"Honestly?" Isabelle asked, with a slight twinge of guilt in her voice. Clary looked up with wide eyes. She had spent so much time carving each little symbol and so much money on the watch itself; she'd hate to have wasted all the effort on a gift that would go unappreciated. Isabelle sensed this and her tone brightened. "I think he'll like it," she responded with a smile, "but, I don't think he'd get much..._practical_...use out of it." She reached out and took the watch in her hands, carefully inspecting it.

"These don't look like any runes I've ever seen," she muttered in an almost whisper, her voice filled with a mixture of wonder and concern.

Clary had seen these symbols in her dreams and each night a different one came to her. She didn't know why or what they were exactly, but she had seen them in every dream that Jace was in. One night she dreamed that she and Jace had made love and when they were finished one of the symbols appeared on the pillow where his head had been. Clary's vivid memory of this dream caused a rush of blood to surge to her face. She stammered to find an explanation that was not so intimate.

"I see them in my dreams and in these dreams important things happen so I-" she said, starting to rise from her bed to reclaim the watch from Isabelle's delicate fingers.

"What sort of important things?" Isabelle asked with a smirk, seeing how flustered Clary had suddenly become. She jerked her hand back to keep the watch away from Clary's grasp, but was not quick enough. Clary recovered the watch and fumbled it, dropping it to the ground.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, scrambling to retrieve it. When she inspected it, she saw that the gears in it had stopped moving. Tears of frustration pained her eyes. She moved toward the bed in slow defeat. "What am I gonna do now? I have no time or money to buy him anything else and he definitely won't get any 'practical' use out of a watch that doesn't tick."

Isabelle looked around the room, searching for some way to make things better. Her eyes fell upon the clock and augmented with hope.

"Hey it's only eight o'clock! I know there has to be somewhere in this god-forsaken city that's still open that can help fix this."

Clary lifted her head and gave a weak smile. She and Isabelle had not always gotten along, but she was glad that they were close friends. Everything in her life had been broken and peculiar for so long that all she wanted for once was a "normal" day. Not just any day. Christmas Day.

Shadowhunters did not celebrate these things, but she was not a Shadowhunter all her life. She just wanted to relieve one of her mundane pastimes and to spend it with someone she loved. When she finished the watch she felt a sense of pride, hope, and happiness; a sense that crashed when the watch hit the floor. She was glad that Isabelle was there to snap her out of her slump and help her regain that tiny bit of joy, even if it would only last a few minutes.

Clary took a deep breath. She sprang from the bed and placed the watch back in its box, then slid on her black sneakers and grabbed her coat. "Let's go, then!" she exclaimed and made a dash for the door. Isabelle chuckled and followed suit, retrieving her black coat from a hook.

They had reached the front door when a voice called out, "Where are you two ladies headed?"

"It's a girl thing, Jace! We'll be back soon, though!" Isabelle quipped, ushering Clary out the door, though it was her loud gasp that prompted Isabelle to whip her back inside.

Isabelle scanned the perimeter with confusion before her eyes landed upon the lump of black fabric on the steps. She approached the mass cautiously before finally kneeling to peel back the woolen hood.

"What, what is it?" Jace inquired, jogging towards them. His footsteps were swift and silent.

"It's a girl," Clary muttered softly.

Jace bent down and placed two fingers on the girl's neck. A faint pulse began to beat under his fingertips. He looked down and saw black swirling patterns on her exposed flesh. His curiosity caused him to undo the girl's jacket. She was dressed in a black leather bodysuit that had now been torn at the midriff. More runes and a gaping wound were now visible where fabric had once been.

"Not just a girl, a Shadowhunter," he said, lifting the body up and hurrying towards the infirmary. Isabelle promptly followed leaving Clary standing in the doorway. She took the box out of her coat pocket and opened it. A slight sigh escaped her lips and she studied the watch, touching it gently.

"So much for that," she exhaled, snapping the box shut. She closed the front door and leaned against it for a moment. After banging her head on it a few times she turned on her heels and slowly followed the drops of blood on the ground to go see what had ruined her night.


End file.
